


In Circles

by fanfoolishness (LoonyLupin), LoonyLupin



Series: Ouroboros: Aodhan Trevelyan X Dorian Pavus [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Dragon Age Quest: In Hushed Whispers, Haven (Dragon Age), M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 18:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6621211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/fanfoolishness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/LoonyLupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aodhan Trevelyan is deeply disturbed by what he saw in Redcliffe; Dorian Pavus provides some words of wisdom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Circles

Aodhan slouched, trying to appear shorter as he sidled up to the bar.  It was frustrating; he wanted a drink, but he didn’t want – **  
**

“Oi, Herald!” Flissa said cheerfully, hurrying down to the end of the bar.  “What can I get for you?  Come to celebrate them mages joining us?  We’ll have that rotten Breach closed up in no time.”  The others at the bar stared at him, realizing who he was, and he tried not to blush.  He supposed he should have expected it.  Being over six feet tall with flaming red hair was not the best recipe for stealth, and having a glowing green mark on one hand didn’t help matters any further.

“Just an ale for me, Flissa,” Aodhan said quietly.  Something about his expression must have tipped her off that he was not in the mood for a long idle chat, and she simply nodded, getting him a pint of Fereldan ale.  He gave her a few extra coppers and searched the small tavern for an open seat.  

Dorian sat off in the corner, and Aodhan hesitated for a moment.  Looking at Dorian brought to mind Redcliffe; Redcliffe, and that awful future, half nightmare, half reality.  Aodhan shuddered, but swallowed, forcing himself to ignore the memory.  It was not Dorian’s fault that Aodhan had had trouble sleeping the past two weeks since their return to Haven.

“This seat taken?” Aodhan asked, leaning over the small table.  Dorian raised his glass of wine to him in a brief toast.

“To the Herald of Andraste!  Do feel free to join me as I drown my sorrows,” Dorian said offhandedly.  Aodhan took the cramped seat next to him on the small bench at their table, their arms touching.  Aodhan took a breath.  Dorian was warm beside him.  

“And what sorrows have you need to drown?” Aodhan asked.

“The fact that the drowning is so miserable,” said Dorian, sniffing the wine and grimacing.  “At least they’ve the sense to carry a few Orlesian vintages, but they’re still quite wretched.  If you can’t get something from Tevinter or Antiva, you’re doomed when it comes to wine.  And yet I try.  You can’t blame a man for that.”

Aodhan chuckled.  “Perhaps you should stick to the ale.”  He took a gulp of his drink.  He still couldn’t get used to how heavy these stout ales were; in Ostwick Circle, the ale was well-watered.  Wouldn’t do to have stone-drunk mages running around.  He reminded himself to drink it slowly.  He liked the taste, but it had already set his head buzzing slightly.

“And insult my tastebuds further?  You ask too much of me, Herald,” said Dorian.  He laughed.  “What about you?  What brings you to this fine, rustic establishment, my good man?”

“Something to do before bedtime,” said Aodhan.  “I’ve read all the books I can find here, and I’m fresh out.”  He squirmed.  He _had_ read through a great stack of books; some of them twice.  But it wasn’t why he was in this crowded tavern, rubbing elbows with Dorian.  It was just… he would rather not be alone with thoughts of red lyrium crumbling beneath his feet, Leliana’s accusing, hollow eyes, Sera’s body limp on the castle floor –  As he thought of her, his eyes flicked towards her usual table, but she wasn’t there.  Perhaps she had already turned in for the evening.  He was relieved not to see her, though it made him feel a little ashamed of himself, not wanting to face her again.

“I can lend you some of mine,” said Dorian, interrupting Aodhan’s reverie.  “I’ve only got a few with me, but I’d never be caught without some sort of reading material.  If I’d had my way, I’d have brought a pack horse with me just for books.  I can’t stand boredom.  One of the worst sensations known.”

“I can’t imagine you ever being bored,” said Aodhan, trying to smile.  “Or boring.”  He shrugged, pretending to think.  “No.  Simply can’t do it.”

“Aren’t I something?” Dorian asked.  He took another draught of his wine.  Even from where Aodhan was sitting he could smell a sour edge to it that he thought ought not to be there.  “Blech.  I don’t know why I keep insisting on giving this a go.  Clearly it is not going to improve, but alas… one makes do with what one has.”  

He studied Aodhan carefully, his smile fading.  “Are you quite all right?”

“What?  Yes, yes, of course I am,” said Aodhan.

Dorian arched an eyebrow.  

“Well, no, if you’re going to be that way about it,” said Aodhan stubbornly.  He sighed.  “How did you know?  I thought I was being rather discreet.”

“I may not have known you all that long, but you _do_ have some clear tells for those who know to pay attention,” said the other man patiently.  He ticked them off on his fingers; long, graceful fingers, Aodhan noticed.  “One, you usually joke quite a bit more.  Tonight you can’t laugh properly at all.  Two, you never come down to the tavern –”

“I most certainly do,” Aodhan protested.  “Flissa knows me.”

“You never come down to the tavern and _stay_ ,” Dorian finished.  “Oh, don’t give me that look.  I’ve seen you taking a pint back to your little cabin more than once.  It is clear that despite your Herald status you are an introvert at heart.  It seems odd that you’d settle in tonight.”

“It _seems_ you know all about me,” he grumbled.  “Been keeping a close watch, have we?”  It was disconcerting, but a bit exciting, to think of Dorian paying as much attention to him as he did to the Tevinter.

“Perhaps,” said Dorian.  “But it’s hard _not_ to notice that splendid red hair in a crowd, you know.”

“I _know_.”

“So what’s wrong, then?”  

“Redcliffe,” said Aodhan, and drank the rest of his pint with a few large gulps.  He licked his lips, shaking his head.  

“Ah.  I thought that might be it,” said Dorian, rubbing at his chin with one hand.  He looked concerned.  “But we did break free of that horrid future.  It’s all right now.”

“Is it?  It _was_ real, even if it isn’t any longer.”  Aodhan stared at the wooden planks of the table, trying to focus on their patterns and whorls.  “And there are parts of it that very well could still happen.  We’re finding red lyrium all around Redcliffe.  Who’s to say it’s not other places as well?”  He stopped trying to follow the woodgrain, finding it disorienting.  “There’s still the matter of the Breach.  I know we’ve got the mages, but we’ve no proof our plan will work; it could still swallow the world.  And –”  He wondered if it was his place to mention the next thing on his mind, but it came out before he could stop himself.  “And Felix is going to die.  That’s a fact.  If that didn’t go away when we returned, the rest might not, either.”

Dorian nodded, his face creasing with a hint of grief.  “Poor Felix.  There is no coming back from that.  We looked, but were only able to slow it, not to cure it.”

“I’m sorry about Felix, Dorian.  Truly, I am.”  

“Thank you.  So am I.”

Aodhan sighed, giving Dorian a long look.  He edged a little closer to the other man, their arms touching again.  “It’s all terrible, but I don’t know what’s the worst part of it.  People being turned _into_ lyrium?  People sacrificing themselves for me?  All of those things Leliana said?  And Maker, that _sky_ …”  He felt nauseous.  “It was like the Veil was _gone_ , wasn’t it?  That our world and the Fade had irrevocably merged.  I can’t stop seeing it, Dorian.”

“I do know what you mean.  And I can’t bear knowing what is to become of Felix,” Dorian admitted.  “In House Pavus, we don’t exactly have friends, only allies.  It’s the way you get ahead.  But Felix is – was – my friend.  It’s a terrible fate.”

“So what do we do about it?  About all of it?” Aodhan asked.  He closed his eyes, suddenly fighting back a wave of dizziness.  Blast that ale.  

“We go on, of course,” said Dorian carefully.  He gave Aodhan a sympathetic look, a sad smile on the edges of his lips.  “We fight.  We save the day.  We can’t exactly do anything less.”

“But I feel so – I don’t know.  Helpless.  Muddling.”  There was a knot in his chest as he said it, and yet even as he spoke it could feel it unraveling, somehow.  Simply saying the words seemed to help.

“That is, of course, the secret.  You do what you have to despite how wretched you really feel about it,” said Dorian, and there was an unexpected sadness behind his dark eyes for a moment – just a moment.  “And perhaps you start to feel better, and perhaps you don’t.  But you move forward all the same.”

“Move forward?  But I always feel like I’m going in circles,” cracked Aodhan.  "Get it?"

Dorian gaped at him, appalled.  “Was that a pun?  That was atrocious.  And astounding.  Is that what passes for humor in the south?  Oh, you _are_ feeling better,” he snorted.

And it was true, Aodhan realized, though he couldn’t say exactly why.

Dorian finished his terrible wine, and Aodhan noticed Flissa closing up.  The tavern was empty aside from the pair of them, he realized.  “Come on, then, we’d best be going,” he said, getting to his feet and taking Dorian by the arm.  Dorian’s arm was firm and well-muscled, and once he realized he’d gripped the other man, he let go with surprise.  Had he meant to do that?

“Right,” said Dorian, opening up the door and stepping out into the snow.  He didn’t seem to notice Aodhan had touched him, or was he simply pretending not to notice?

Aodhan followed him out, shivering at the sudden chill.  “Perhaps tomorrow’s wine will be less depressing.  I suspect not,” said Dorian.  He grinned, and the knot in Aodhan’s chest was back.  A different sort of knot altogether, but a knot all the same.

“Perhaps I’ll join you.  It might make the sorrow-drowning more tolerable.”

Dorian grinned once more.  Aodhan had never known a man whose smile could _dazzle_ so.  “It’s worth a try, I’d wager.”  

Aodhan looked at him for another moment, then nodded, smiling back.  “See you then, Dorian.”  

“As you wish, my Lord Herald,” laughed Dorian.

Aodhan groaned.  “The offer’s off the table if you call me that ever again.”

“My sincerest apologies,” Dorian said, flourishing a deep bow.  “As you wish, _Aodhan_.”  The way his name rolled off the other man’s tongue was different, new, in a Tevene-tinged accent.  Aodhan liked it.

“That’s better,” he said loftily.  “Andraste would approve.”

“I’m glad to know we have her seal of approval in this matter.”  Dorian crossed his arms, peering into Aodhan’s face as he did.  “You really are feeling better, then?”

“Yes,” said Aodhan.  He shuffled in the snow, shy again.  “Thanks, Dorian.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

Aodhan watched Dorian marching back towards his sleeping quarters, gazing at him for a moment before he turned and crunched through the snow back to his own bed.  He was quite tired now, after weeks of short, broken sleep and dark dreams.  The bed no longer seemed such a fearsome prospect as it had earlier, but it did feel rather… lonely.

Lonely was better than frightening, though, and when Aodhan slept that night, no nightmares troubled him.  

It had been a good night.

**Author's Note:**

> First time really writing Dorian, having fun with him :)


End file.
